I Write History, Not Tragedies
by KeepCalmFanFicExists
Summary: After her break-up with Voldemort, young Bellatrix approaches the Head Girl of the school for a "talk" about the Dark Lord. Each student has her own view on the matter and they'll do everything to pass the message to the other.


_Warning: If Tom/OC is a favourite of yours, then probably you shouldn't be reading this._

 _The OC, Clara Burrows, first appears in Those Stars that Bleed. She had met Bellatrix at the hospital where they are both receiving long term care._

 _For Azzie, because you were the one who showed some interest in Clara from the previous fic. :) I made up the title just for you. ;P_

"Bella," Lord Voldemort's voice came out soft and wet, as he whispered in her ear. They were both lying on the narrow bed of his tiny apartment, the simple white bedcovers tossed somewhere in the room, covered by books and parts of their clothing. "Bella, I know you are awake."

Bellatrix giggled and bit the skin of his jaw. "I don't even have the right to fake sleepiness, do I?"

"Not when I have an important question to ask," Voldemort said and, when Bellatrix looked up with interest, he continued. "I will never let you go, you know that? Even if you wish to leave me, I won't let you. You will stay with me no matter how much you beg me to release you." He caressed her cheek, the warmth of his hand contrasting the bluntness of the words he had spoken. Bellatrix, though, didn't seem to find anything odd about them. Instead, she laughed.

"But how could you think I would ever want to leave you, my Lord? You are the reason I wake up every day, your company and praise is the highest honour and pleasure. How could I ever... stop breathing?"

Voldemort smiled and then rested his chin on her forehead, so that she couldn't see him at all. "Don't be so sure, my dear, my mother did it. She loved my father very much, she forced him into marriage under the influence of a Love Potion and then finally, she decided to stop giving it to him. He left and never cared about her. Or me."

Bellatrix laid quite still in the light of his confession. He very rarely talked about himself that way and she wasn't even sure why he had decided to say this. He continued, his long pale fingers reaching her own much smaller ones.

"What would you do, Bella? If I wanted to leave you for someone else, would you find a way to keep me with you, or would you let me go?

* * *

"So, yeah, I'll go ask McGonagall tomorrow evening when she's back," Clara Burrows was saying to her group of friends during dinner, "I mean, it's the third time the first years blow up stuff and, in the Potions Room that's fine, but concocting Lucky Laces under the beds, we're go- What's wrong with you, Charlotte?"

The Gryffindor named Charlotte had focused her attention on someone behind the Head Girl and was looking positively mortified.

"Black, Bellatrix Black is coming towards us! And she looks pissed!" she hissed.

"Damn, that girl gives me the creeps. The way she moves and talks is just strange," another Gryffindor girl of the group said, wrinkling her nose.

"Who cares? She's like, totally hot, Sirius says she can do this split thingy in gymnastics-"

"Oh, shut up, Cal, you're a pig!" Charlotte spat at the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. "Betty's right, just the way she looks at you, it's like she's, I don't know, trying to make you uncomfortable..."

"Will you all stop?" Clara interfered annoyed, "you're being unfair, she's fine, it's just that her life sucked at points and you know how high the pressure for purebloods is."

"Yeah, I'm crying for the rich girl. Golden bed too hard on her arse? And anyway, a terminal illness doesn't mean she can talk to you like she's trying to find the spot that'll hurt you the most. You've had two relapsed and all that ugly stuff and you're still you, aren't you?" Betty whispered angrily. "Dear Gryffindor, here she comes..."

The group of seventh years instantly stopped talking and devoted themselves to their lamp stew, as if they had been starved for a week. The sound of heels was audible and-

"Excuse me, Miss Burrows, could I have a word, please?" a pleasantly hoarse voice came from behind the Head Girl.

"Sure, Bella, is everything all right?" Clara asked nonchalantly, putting down her knife and fork. "Why don't you sit down?"

"In private, if it is no trouble?"

"Um, sure, why not? I was done with eating, anyway," answered Clara and stood up, ignoring both her almost full plate and her friends who were making gestures that obviously meant don't-you-dare-she's-going-to-slit-your-throat. "See ya later, guys," she said casually.

Bellatrix had started walking towards the entrance of the Great Hall, when Betty called from the Gryffindor table: "We'll come and get you in fifteen minutes, Clara!"

Bellatrix' head turned abruptly in order to shoot a haughty look at the girl, a smirk on her face.

"Yeah, that absolutely changed my plans of torturing, killing and dismembering our Head Girl in the first floor lavatories, we'll just go play tick-tack-toe, now. Because I'm so scared of the Head of the Duelling Club whose arse I kicked when I was in my first year." Betty went bright crimson.

"Come on, Clara," Bellatrix ordered.

"You don't have to be so strict with them, you know, they're just kidding..."

Bellatrix remained silent as they walked side by side, simply looking straight forward.

"Why don't we go in here? It's isolated enough," Clara started again, one floor up and five classrooms in later. Bellatrix, without bothering to knock, grabbed the door-knob and walked into the disserted classroom first. After Clara followed, she closed the door shut again.

The classroom was dark and dusty, one of those old ones they hadn't used in decades. Even the subject that used to be taught there must have been dismissed, because no Hogwarts student studied anything that included working with dead animal tissues under microscopes anymore. A chill ran down Clara's spine when the light from the candles Bellatrix had just conjured illuminated various vases and vials with pickled mutated animal remains.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, had picked up a bottle full of green liquid and was examining the horribly disfigured embryo it contained with disturbing interest.

"Healer Sanguis said that your transplant seems to be working better now, you'll be able to attend more..." Clara said encouragingly, in hopes the fourth year would put the dead baby deer down, so she herself wouldn't have to look at it. Bellatrix merely nodded, not taking her eyes from the specimen.

"I heard you and Thomas broke up, I'm sorry about that, you must be really upset," she tried again, fearing that this was the actual reason the younger student had asked a private word. Indeed, Bellatrix stopped fingering the glass to make the embryo stir, and tilted her head in a feline way very similar to a hunting position. Clara swallowed.

"Who told you that?" she asked softly.

"He did."

Bellatrix put the vial down and turned completely around to face her, straightening her body to its full height. It was funny how the two girls looked in the dimly lit room, so different in so many ways. Clara was on the plum side of the scale, with tanned skin and golden blonde hair that was frizzing wildly in its short pixie-cut, for her latest treatment had been over for a little more than four months. Her eyes were large and wide, in a sweet honey colour matching that of her hair, and her smile had a kindness that made you overlook the second-hand, clumsily-put-on robes. Bellatrix, on the contrary, was wearing robes with silk cuffs ironed to perfection and her tie was loose enough to give a spicy idea of what was offered under the shirt, but nothing more. Lean and extremely pale, she was taller than the seventh year, and her face and posture gave the impression she was an adult. The sure thing was, those midnight blue eyes, glowing in the dark like a cat's with the heavy lids, were not easy to stumble upon.

"How come?" she asked again, no intonation in her voice.

Clara eyed her worriedly; this lack of emotion was very unbecoming.

"We met at the hospital, I was there for my routine check-up, he was visiting along with Mr. ... I think Avery his name was. He looked sad, so I asked. Said you ended it a week ago."

"That is correct," Bellatrix confirmed the story, "even though I'm not sure he had the right to share it. Anyway, this is what I wanted to talk to you about."

Clara's heart skipped a beat. For some bizarre reason, she believed Bellatrix had a very animalistic survival instinct. She had been the only kid of their ward not complaining once about their gruesome treatments, instead she would simply take a very sour expression and stare at the walls for hours at a time. Clara had also seen Bellatrix duel in the Duelling Club and the whole school agreed she was probably the best they had ever seen. Something in the way her eyes shone when fighting, convinced Clara that seeing the combative, competitive side of Bellatrix' personality would be a big mistake. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the storm to come.

"I'm not that good at phrasing things nicely, so I'm just going to say it. Stay away from him," Bellatrix deadpanned.

"What?" gasped Clara.

Bellatrix eyed her haughtily, annoyed by her lack of decorum and intelligence. She titled her head to the side in the characteristic way Riddle did, and repeated, a little more aggressively.

"Stay. Away. From. Him."

"You have no right telling me-" Clara began, raising a finger to point at Bellatrix' chest.

"Look," Bellatrix interrupted, "I have no clue what happened between the two of you in Gstaad and, honestly, I don't care. But I have seen the way you stare at him and talk to him. So, I'm telling you to let him go, no matter how you feel."

Clara's cheeks burned up and, for the first time, she was thankful for the darkness, for her company could not see how much her words had stung. Still, she looked at the young aristocrat offended.

"First of all, that's none of your business and second, maybe in your world everything revolves around you, but in reality relationships take two to work. Thomas is not even interested in me, I don't get why you're getting all paranoid. Is that the reason you broke up?"

If Bellatrix had been slightly annoyed before, now her eyes shot blue bolts and the little colour her face had left.

"The reasons I asked _Mr. Riddle_ to break up is neither your concern, or relevant to this conversation. And don't pretend you don't know he's interested, you are aware of it as much as I am. Honestly, I have no idea what he could possibly find attractive in all of... this," Bellatrix made a general gesture to Clara's whole body, "but he sure does. So don't encourage him. It's a phase, it will pass, try to not break his heart in the meantime."

Clara let out a bitter laugh.

"Rumour has it, your dear Mr. Riddle has no heart."

"But you don't believe that, do you, Clara?" Bellatrix returned the question slyly. "You think he's just like everybody else, nice and handsome, a good man who's had bad luck and nasty stuff happened to him. A lost boy, isn't that what you see in him? A sweet, orphan little boy asking for you to hug away the pain and rejection."

Her tone was sickeningly sweet and deeply sarcastic, hurtful and nauseating to listen to, but Bellatrix went on.

"But I've got news for you, Miss Burrows, some things are just too big to hug them away, you should know that. When you got sick, they gave you potions and poisons, not sunshine, unicorns and hugs! And you lived, while others didn't! Remember Hannah? Esme? Myrtis? Where are they? Not loved enough?"

"Don't you dare speak their names," shrieked Clara with tears in her eyes, "they have nothing to do with this!"

"Sure they do," Bellatrix almost hissed. "They _prove_ that sunny optimism is nothing but garnish. You think he's sick and needs to be fixed. I think he's amazing the way he is. You find his little... 'paranoias', or whatever you call them, are sweet and cute and a sign of what he's been through. Live with him for a few years and see if they're sweet then. Try insane! Because, for you, they _will_ be. Because you cannot possibly understand the way his mind works, how he accepts and processes information, what he likes and dislikes. But I do!"

Clara looked at Bellatrix for a while, appraising her, trying to both calm herself down and understand what Bellatrix had in mind, and then seemed to take a decision.

"I think that's why you shouldn't be together," she said quietly. "You're so... so weird and you heard what the others were saying. You're bad for him, Bella! You'll drag him down in that bloody black road you'll take and you'll destroy him. He doesn't have to go down your own downward spiral, he doesn't deserve this. He deserves to see that there's more in life than darkness and- and cruelty. He doesn't have to be so cold and disappointed in humanity, he can smile and enjoy life. Have you seen him smile, Bella? Have you seen him _happy_? Hasn't he got the most beautiful, infectious smile ever?"

Bellatrix opened her mouth to say something, but Clara continued shooting.

"But he can't smile as long as you're with him, because you yourself don't believe in the goodness of the world!" she exclaimed urgently. "Bella, I'm not saying he should be with me, I don't know, maybe it'd be nice for both of us, but my point is that he shouldn't be with you! Maybe you're right, the fact that you understand him so well _is_ why you shouldn't be around each other... You're too similar. Too... _dark_."

Bellatrix had not tried to intervene while Clara blurted out the awful things that were in her mind, but she had started to breathe heavily, like she couldn't get enough oxygen in the normal way. Clara took advantage of her struggle and went on:

"And there's another thing. You think he's amazing, you said it yourself. You think he's like... a god or something, who came down from Mount Olympus to grace us with his presence. But he's already so full of himself, making his head swell like that can't result in anything good. He needs someone who can tell him that he doesn't do everything right, and you could never do that, Bella, you just said it!"

"You disgust me," said Bellatrix, her voice constricted with emotion. "You're telling me he needs fixing, exactly like I said you think. You're telling me you need to show him the world, when he's done the trip around the world twice, both times before either of us was born. You think you can offer him the slightest thing he doesn't already know? Because there's no such thing!"

She shook her head, apparently in agony, her eyes so big, she looked insane. "Mother him, is that what you want? And how do you conciliate his swollen head _and_ being his mummy, huh?" she said pointedly.

"He's a complicated man. But say you're right, you get him all right and you're a match made in heaven- hell, or whatever suits you. If you go together so well, why on earth did you break up?"

"That's none of your damn business!" Bellatrix returned with the same force and, on her, the effect was much more impressive. The glass vials closest to her were now vibrating, like they were close to a resonance disaster. Clara took a step back without even noticing.

"OK, OK," she tried to calm the girl down before they both got soaked in pickled, mutilated remains of animals long dead. Bellatrix looked like she was on the verge of exploding. "OK, I don't think Thomas needs fixing, he just-"

"What? He just what, Burrows?" Bellatrix asked, her chest raising and falling violently. "He just looks like the Prince your filthy Muggle mummy was telling you all about and, even better, he's also hurt and sad, so you can as well have the upper hand in the whole situation? You think you can handle and change him, but you can't! And even if you could, you shouldn't, because he's amazing. He's not- he's not the type to marry and have kids, kissing them goodbye on their way to school and going home to his boring life as a- I don't know- Ministry official."

"Well, it's your mother who says he's the next Minister for Magic..." Clara shrugged.

"My mother says many things," Bellatrix muttered, "and there's so much more for him than being Minister. And you can't take that away from him. You think of him as a child, a sad, hurt little child, but he's a man, Clara, and he shall be treated as one."

"Aren't you treating him like a child, coming here to save him from me, without even giving him the chance to speak his mind? Or are you afraid he just might not pick you? You can't play god like that!"

Bellatrix froze with her hand in the air, as she was reaching for another specimen. She put it back down and turned slowly towards the blonde, her face now totally expressionless. Clara went completely still when she realised the other had silently taken out her wand and was pointing it at her chest.

"God is not terminally ill," Bellatrix said velvety, her voice more threatening that the wildest curse. "Listen to me, just forget about him, your life without him in it will be much easier, trust me. You go on with your life and leave us in our own devices. Please."

And with those words, she opened the door again and walked out of the room, leaving Clara confused and alone in the old dark classroom. After the shock had finally worn off, she, too, followed Bellatrix back to the Great Hall. As they entered the vast hall with a difference of mere minutes, Clara's friends spotted them coming back.

"What did you do to her?" shrieked Charlotte, who had noticed how pale and sweaty Clara looked.

"Do you consider this tone appealing, miss Clark?" purred Bellatrix, none of her previous anger visible now. "Miss Burrows and I only had a nice little chat. Is that right, Clara?"

"That's right," Clara forced a smile.

Cal put his vast body between Bellatrix and Betty, who had taken her wand out.

"How about you leave her alone, you spoilt little rich girl?" he said aggressively.

"Not totally hot anymore, am I?" Bellatrix smirked. "No worries, I'll just go cry myself to sleep on my piles and piles of gold and pure blood and... you know what else, Clara, while you guys go do... what you guys do."

She almost stuck out her tongue and went back to the Slytherin table, where immediately the kids sitting where she had picked packed their stuff to offer her space.

"Creepy, you said?" Cal spoke first, with his eyes on Bellatrix' flowing skirt. "Scary fits better."

"Yeah... Scary..." Clara muttered deep in thought.

* * *

"I would like you to be happy, my Lord," Bellatrix whispered looking straight into Voldemort's fiery eyes, "I don't care about myself. I would let you go."

 _A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think._

 _Any ideas on why Bella and Voldemort had temporary broken up?_


End file.
